Clarence Thomas looks back to future

Dana Milbank

Sunday

Nov 25, 2007 at 6:41 AM

WASHINGTON - The Earth has circled the sun 16 times since Clarence Thomas took his seat at the U.S. Supreme Court. But for Justice Thomas, it's forever 1991.

Thomas might appear to be a mute during oral arguments. But last Thursday, he opened his heart within the safe confines of the conservative Federalist Society's annual gathering. And it took him precisely 31 seconds to get to the subject most on his mind: His confirmation battle.

He turned to C. Boyden Gray, President George H.W. Bush's White House counsel, and thanked him for his kindness "during the confirmation, when both he and the president were steadfast, firm and courageous."

He next turned to Lee Liberman Otis, another White House lawyer in 1991. She, too, was "central in my confirmation process" and "gave me some of the most important advice throughout that process," Thomas said. "This is an opportunity to thank her personally from the bottom of my heart."

Couldn't he have found time to do that earlier? Like by 1992, at the latest?

But Thomas wasn't the only one in a time warp. Gray, apparently speaking of the first President Bush, introduced Thomas by saying: "My boss constantly goes over these times of his confirmation. I think he feels it's the best thing he ever did."

Even the softball questions from the audience kept to the Spirit of '91: Does the confirmation process harm the courts? And, in retrospect, would he have gone through with his confirmation battle?

"Oh, I don't think you have any alternative," came the inevitable answer by Thomas to the second query. He then spoke of soldiers wounded in Iraq.

"Look at me: I don't have any wounds," he said.

Of course, some wounds are invisible. And judging from the constant return Thursday to his confirmation fight, Thomas carries some scars still - a case of post-Anita-Hill stress disorder.

To those who know Thomas only as a silent man on the bench, he proved to be a confident public speaker, adept at the one-liner.

On his years with the court: "You almost want to say, `You need to get a life!' "

On the most important thing to get out of law school: "A degree."

On his days in law school: "We'd go get beer on Thursday, a dollar a pitcher - you could have a lot of good thoughts with that."

But there were signs that Thomas is not a regular on the speaking circuit.

"You know, it's really hard to talk up here when this guy in front of me keeps moving," Thomas announced early in his speech. He was referring to a television screen on the floor in front of him that was showing his own image - but because nobody but Thomas could see the TV, nobody knew what he was talking about.

"It's me! I see myself moving around!" Thomas explained, then let out a resonant laugh: "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" He continued: "This guy keeps moving around in front of me. Jeez! At any rate, stop looking at this guy in front of me! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! You look at it and think, it's too much of a good thing!"

A technician covered up the offending screen with a black cloth.

Keen appreciation

Luckily, the audience listening to Thomas - a bunch of lawyers, judges and students celebrating the Federalist Society's 25th anniversary - was indulgent. They greeted him with a 25-second standing ovation so contagious that even Thomas joined in.

Instead of asking why Thomas never talks in court, the question was phrased: "Why do your colleagues ask so many questions?"

"I did not plant that question," the justice said, taking a poke at Hillary Clinton for her recent flap over planted questions.

In the bosom of a group that has claimed as members John Ashcroft, John Roberts, Samuel Alito, Antonin Scalia, Kenneth Starr and Robert Bork, the perpetually embattled Thomas felt at ease.

"You're my kind of people," he told the group, then lingered for two hours to sign copies of his new memoir.

Among friends, Thomas felt comfortable to air his many long-standing grievances with the world.

"So much has been written about me, and most of it's wrong," he lamented.

He protested "the monopoly of certain organizations and certain groups and media types" in Washington.

He chafed at the notion of affirmative action at Yale Law School. ("What were the benefits?" he asked. "Student loans?")

He sounded defensive when speaking about his silences: "One thing I've demonstrated in 16 years is: You can do this job without asking a single question."

Credits his wife

And never far from the surface were the wounds of 1991, the Coke can and all the rest. Thomas recalled how his wife "has been steadfast and immovable and unshakable through some of the most difficult and turbulent times." He told the Federalists that he was "so grateful that President Bush had confidence and faith in me to play such a role in this country."

The first question that came was an innocent query: "Is the job as wonderful as you thought it would be?"

Thomas turned the answer to his confirmation fight.

"Because of things that happened after the announcement, I never had a chance to think about things that the job entailed," he answered.

Even a frivolous question, about the fate of the embattled football coach at Nebraska, his wife's alma mater, gave Thomas a chance to revisit the lessons of '91.

"Let me express my unequivocal support for Coach Callahan," he said. "I don't cut and run. I'm not in the middle of changing every time things are going bad."

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